


Only Us

by cathRN26



Series: Only [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I swear I NEVER thought I'd ever use that tag, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Keith and James are married, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Graphic Violence, Trans Male Character, but here we are, trans james
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22217212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathRN26/pseuds/cathRN26
Summary: He angrily snapped a branch in half, tossing the pieces into the growing fire.  It had been roughly seven months since they left their apartment and escaped to the wild.  The sheer fact that James had survived that long was a miracle.  His symptoms continued to worsen, and he was experiencing them at increasing regularity – once a week at best, three times a day at worst.  He was like a ticking bomb, and Keith feared the day that he might –would– go out.  He didn’t know what he would do, where he would go.But he was still here.  Even after all this time, being exposed to the unfiltered air of the world, he was still hanging on.  James was still alive, and that was what mattered.
Relationships: James Griffin/Keith (Voltron)
Series: Only [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580098
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Only Us

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read the first part of this series, please do so before reading this one! You don't have to I suppose, but it has some world building that sets up the premise and provides a lot of context to this :)

The gentle nudge that came to his shoulder was expected, but _certainly_ not welcomed, especially in the early hours of the morning.

“James,” said a quiet voice, “it’s time to get up.”

He simply groaned and rolled over, tugging the blankets and sleeping bag closer to his body and burying his face in the plush fabric.

A shake, much rougher than the previous.

“James, we still have to pack up and move camp.”

“Later,” he grumbled, an arm shooting out to lazily push at Keith’s hovering figure. “Give me ten more minutes.”

Keith stifled a laugh at the sight of his husband, bundled up so that only half of his face could be seen peeking out of the blanket, along with a few loose tufts of hair that managed to escape. “ _Jamie_ , your breakfast is gonna get cold.”

Finally, James eyes gradually blinked open, lids still heavy with the desire for sleep. “Breakfast?”

“Yeah,” he said with a soft smile, “caught it this morning while you were hogging the blankets.”

James sat up with a yawn, still wrapped up and cozy. With a delicate touch, Keith reach out to caress his cheek, thumbing away the bit of crust near his tear duct.

“I was cold,” James said with a shrug. His arms stretched over his head, the blanket falling away to reveal his bare torso.

Keith watched with a smirk as James crawled away from the now-abandoned circle of fabric to pick up his clothes, pretending to _not_ stare shamelessly at his nude form. “Maybe you should’ve dressed warmer,” he said snidely.

He received a whip to the head for his comment, James clutching the white t-shirt tightly in his hand. “Asshole,” he muttered, though there was no venom behind his words. James continued to get dressed, Keith patiently waiting and helping to collect the loose articles of clothing from around the tent.

As he handed him his jacket, he noticed James breathing heavily, his eyes slightly out of focus and his skin pale. He had frozen, balling his hands into fists and closing his eyes while taking a deep breath.

“Jamie?” he asked, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

A shaky exhale left his lips and he shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s just – I’m a bit thirsty.”

“I’ll go get the canteen and bring it –”

“ _No_ ,” James said sternly. Keith stared at him in a mix of confusion and concern. When he saw his face, James was quick to give him a nervous smile and brush it off. “I think I’m gonna go to the river and get a drink. It’ll be nice to freshen up a bit – You know, splash some water on my face? It’ll do some good.”

“Oh,” Keith said, but he wasn’t fully convinced. “Do you want me to come with you?”

James chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, squirming past him to exit the tent. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Just wait here.”

“Okay, but be careful!”

As James ran off, Keith returned to the small fire he had started, throwing in a few extra twigs as tinder. He looked longingly at the roasted squirrel he had prepared, desperately wanting to dig his teeth into the warm, juicy meat – but no, he was going to be a _faithful_ husband by waiting for James to come back first, no matter how tempting it was.

James. His devoted husband. The love of his life. The entire reason that they were currently living in the woods, in their car, in hotels – whatever odd place they ended up, as long as it wasn’t their sterilized apartment.

He angrily snapped a branch in half, tossing the pieces into the growing fire. It had been roughly seven months since they left their apartment and escaped to the wild. The sheer fact that James had survived that long was a miracle. His symptoms continued to worsen, and he was experiencing them at increasing regularity – once a week at best, three times a day at worst. He was like a ticking bomb, and Keith feared the day that he might – _would_ – go out. He didn’t know what he would do, where he would go.

But he was still here. Even after all this time, being exposed to the unfiltered air of the world, he was still hanging on. James was still alive, and that was what mattered.

Keith found himself mindlessly twisting the gold band on his finger, a smile on his face.

After everything that happened, James was still with him, and he was determined to cherish every moment they had left together.

He suddenly jolted. It had been over ten minutes since James left. The river wasn’t very far away, and he hadn’t planned on doing anything too time-consuming –

It should’ve taken him five minutes to finish, max.

“James!” Keith yelled, scrambling to stand and run towards the river. “Jamie, are you alright?!”

His boots crunched loudly on the leaves and foliage, his hand rested lightly on the knife strapped to his belt, his eyes flitted left and right to scan the area as he neared the riverbank –

He took in a sharp breath when he saw James on the ground, resting against a tree with his eyes closed and his skin an almost sickly shade of green. “Jamie!” he said, falling to his knees to cup his face in his hands. “What happened?”

“It’s – It’s nothing,” he said, his voice trembling and weak. He brought a shaky hand to wipe at his lips. “Just nauseous.”

“James,” Keith breathed, “you look _terrible_. Please, just tell me what’s wrong. I’m worried.”

His eyes cracked open slightly, giving him a view of those deep blue-gray eyes that he had grown to love so dearly. “I swear, Keith, it’s just a little morning sickness.”

Keith narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking at him with an attentive gaze. He leaned forward to press their foreheads together, taking a deep breath –

“You threw up,” he muttered, the sting of acidity burning his nose. “Jamie, you threw up and you weren’t going to tell me? I care about you, I just want –”

“It’s not a big deal,” James reassured.

“Not a big deal? Isn’t nausea and puking a symptom –?”

“ _It’s not_ ,” he stated firmly. He closed his eyes again, biting his lower lip. “Besides, this isn’t the first time –”

“ _Not the first time?!_ ” Keith repeated. “Then what was?”

James gulped nervously. “A few weeks ago.”

“… Has this been happening often?”

“Kind of? Every morning or so – I don’t always throw up, but the nausea is pretty consistent…”

His eyes widened, a hand flying up to cover his mouth and Keith could’ve sworn he heard a small “ _no_ ” escape his lips.

“Jamie?” he said, carefully grabbing his wrist. “Is everything alright?”

“ _No_ ,” James said, ignoring his concerns. “No, no, no, no. This – This can’t happen. It can’t. _I_ can’t – not like this –”

“James!” Keith shouted, his nose brushing against James’. “What are you talking about? What can’t happen? What’s wrong?”

“I –” He choked back a sob. “ _I think I’m pregnant_.”

Everything stilled. The world went silent. It was as if time had stopped.

A chill ran up Keith’s spine as he began to process the words that had tumbled from his mouth. “ _What_?” he managed to say. “But, you’re – I thought – Didn’t you have surgery?”

James was trembling uncontrollably, his head shaking back and forth in a panic. “I never – I didn’t have a hysterectomy. I thought transitioning would at least make me infertile, but apparently it _didn’t_ , and I haven’t been on testosterone for _years_ since this whole mess started – I really didn’t think – God, I’m so _stupid_ , we shouldn’t have risked it. We should’ve used protection, but I was so sick of _constantly_ having something between us –”

“Fuck,” Keith hissed, and he raised a hand to massage at his temples. “ _Fuck_.”

“Keith,” James whimpered, tears in his eyes, “what are we going to do? We can’t safely abort it, and we can’t raise a _baby_ while living on the road.”

“I don’t know,” he said, “I don’t – Wait.” His eyes lit up as an idea sprung to mind. “My dad. Oh my god, my _dad_ – this is perfect!”

“What about your dad?” James asked between sniffles. “Didn’t he die when you were a kid? How is he going to help?”

“It’s not him that’s going to help, it’s his house,” Keith explained with a smile that leaned a little too close to deranged. “When he died, he left behind this old cabin in the woods. It’s where he raised me, where I grew up – It’s a fair distance from the city and almost impossible to find without a map. We can go there, and both you and the baby will be safe –”

“Will it be like our apartment?” James’ voice was timid and full of dread, his eyes pleading for mercy. “Keith, I can’t go through that again. I _can’t_ be locked up, I can’t stay _trapped_ –”

Keith cradled his face in his hands, brushing back his brown hair to tuck it behind his ear as he gave him a comforting kiss. “It won’t be,” he whispered, his breath tickling his lips, the taste of acid bitter on his tongue. “I promise, you can come with me into town to get supplies or whatever the fuck else, but the cabin can be our home, our safe-zone. Just you, me, and…”

His hand trailed down to slip under James’ shirt and rest on his stomach, and James shivered at the cold touch.

“Do you really mean that?”

“I do,” Keith said with a nod. “Jamie, I _promise_ , I won’t do that to you again.”

James sat in silence, chewing on his bottom lip. He placed a hand on top of Keith’s, lacing his fingers between his own and pressing it more firmly against his abdomen.

A breathless laugh escaped from him. “That sounds perfect.”

* * *

“Are you coming or not?”

Keith stood in the open doorway of the passenger’s seat while James sat with the seatbelt still strapped, staring down at his stomach with both hands grazing the fabric of his jacket.

James frowned. “Do you think anyone will be able to tell?” he asked quietly.

“Your clothes are pretty thick, and you barely have a belly,” Keith said with a chuckle. “At most, it just looks like you’re a bit chubby.”

“Rude,” James said, punching him in the arm. He released the seatbelt buckle with a sigh and hopped out of the car, grabbing Keith’s arm for balance. “Alright, let’s go. I’m starving.”

Upon entering the small diner, they were immediately hit with the smell of grease and bacon. There was a singular chef behind the counter, whistling as he went about his work while a waiter stood nearby, making light conversation and staring as Keith and James made their way to a booth in the back corner. There were only three other people in the diner – a father-son duo at a different booth and a lone patron sitting at the bar top with a cigarette to his lips.

After they were seated, the old waiter slowly plodded to their table, to hand them their menus, returning a few minutes later to take their orders and drop off their waters.

“I’ll get the bacon, egg, and cheese Texas melt,” Keith said. “And a coffee.”

The waiter simply grunted with disinterest, scrawling the order onto his notepad. “And what about you?” he asked James.

James licked his lips, his eyes scanning over the menu. “Could I get the lion pride lunch special, please?”

“… Are you sure?” The waiter was dumbfounded, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets and his eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. “That feeds a family of four.”

“I – I just…” James stuttered. “I have a big appetite.”

“We’ll take some of it for the road,” Keith said nonchalantly. “We’re traveling pretty far from here and the rest of the way is basically empty. Nothing for miles, just dirt and asphalt.”

“Hm, got it. I’ll bring a to-go container.”

As the waiter walked away, Keith leaned across the table and met James’ eye. “What happened to keeping a low profile?” he teased in a low voice.

“I’m hungry!” James pouted. “Don’t shame me.”

“I’m _not_ , but you’ve gotta admit that it’s kind of funny.” He chuckled. “And cute.”

James rolled his eyes. “It’s funny to _you_. I feel like a fucking cow.”

“A _cute_ cow,” Keith corrected. James glared daggers at him, kicking his leg from underneath the table, and he quickly apologized. “You’re eating for two, it’s understandable,” he whispered.

“Not to the waiter,” James said, his eyes flicking back to where the man in question was leaned against the wall with his phone. “He probably thinks I’m weird.”

“Pretty sure he doesn’t give a shit about you, as long as you pay him.” Keith tilted his head to the side and looked at James intently. “Besides, I thought my opinion was the only one that mattered?

“Well, yeah, but I don’t want everyone else thinking that I just gorge myself all the time.”

His worries seemed to dissipate as soon as the food arrived, his mouth watering and his eyes aweing over the sight of a hot meal. While Keith received a single plate with a pair of triangular-cut sandwiches, a cheese-covered hash brown, and two slices of bacon, James was given what could only be considered a feast: two waffles with a pad of butter each, two grilled chicken breasts, four porkchops, a large salad bowl, and a mountain of scrambled eggs. The waiter set a pile of to-go boxes on the edge of the table before leaving to converse with the chef again.

James grabbed his fork and pulled the waffles closer to him, dousing them in syrup before digging into the food and practically inhaling it within minutes. Keith held back a laugh at the ridiculous scene, but he couldn’t hide the goofy smile that made an appearance on his face.

“You look cute,” he said, using the takeout boxes to pack up some of the extra food. “Don’t eat too fast, though. You’ll get a stomach ache.”

“Shut up,” James said through a mouth full of food. He had finished his waffles and was now cutting eagerly into a porkchop. “Let me eat in peace.”

Keith snorted. “Sure, Jamie.”

He bit into his sandwich – as much as he loved the taste of freshly-caught game, it was a delicious change of pace – and pulled out the paper map he had tucked into his bag. He spread it over the table and took note of the roads needed to get to his father’s cabin, marking down places to rest and camp out on the way.

They sat together in silence, Keith poring over the map while James focused solely on eating the overabundance of food in front of them. Keith finished eating and was nursing his coffee close to his chest, taking occasional sips while he checked over their route.

It wasn’t until he heard a fork clatter that he looked up, and his blood ran cold.

James’ eyes were glassy and out of focus. His hand was frozen in the air as if he were still holding his fork, twitching slightly. He had fallen back against the seat of the booth, his breaths shallow with faint whimpers.

Keith slammed down his coffee and shoved the map into his bag. “Jamie,” he whispered, reaching across the table and taking his hand in his own, “Jamie, look at me.”

He gritted his teeth when nothing happened, not that he expected anything to. Every time James had a seizure, he clung to the possibility that maybe, _just maybe_ , his voice would be enough to break whatever spell was cast over him to bring him back to full consciousness. But it never was.

A twenty-dollar bill was dropped on the table to cover their meal, and Keith pulled James out of the booth and into his arms, rushing out of the diner and to the safety of their car.

“Wha – Hey!” the waiter yelled, running over to the door. He made his way to their abandoned table with a grumble, pocketing the cash left behind. “At least those lousy fucks paid. So much for a tip, though.”

As he trekked back to the counter, a hand extended a crisp twenty towards him. “A tip,” the man said. A cigarette was held between his teeth, a lazy smile on his face. “For your troubles.”

The man hopped down from his bar stool and strode across the diner, pushing open the door and retreating to his truck. The bell above the door rung loudly, echoing through the diner.

With a sigh, the waiter went to lean against the counter. “I don’t get paid enough to deal with this shit…”

* * *

When he finally came to, he noticed that they weren’t in the diner anymore.

Empty fields of withered crops zipped by the window, leaving clouds of dirt in their wake. The sky was red and orange with the setting sun, making the world look as it were set ablaze. The road was only two lanes wide, and it seemed like they were the only car for a mile.

James slowly turned his head to face Keith, who had a death-grip on the steering wheel and a scowl on his face.

“Keith?” James said weakly. He looked out the window again and frowned, closing his eyes to block out the fast-moving landscape. “Keith, please, slow down. You’re going at least _ninety_ – You’re gonna make me sick.”

His head whipped towards him, tearing his eyes away from the road to greet him with a relieved sigh. “Sorry, Jamie,” he said, easing off the gas pedal until they coasted at a much more comfortable speed. “You okay?”

He groaned, the events from earlier stealing away all of his energy. “I’ve been better.”

Keith chewed on the inside of his cheek, returning his gaze to the road in front of him. He stole frequent glances at James, who was leaning his head on the window with his eyes closed and his teeth chattering ever so slightly.

“Stop, Keith,” James complained, feeling Keith swipe a finger under his nose.

“Nosebleed,” he said bluntly. He grabbed a napkin from one of the cupholders and stretching his arm over to wipe the blood away.

“Keith, just focus on driving.” James tried to take the napkin from his hands, but he didn’t have to strength to steal it. Instead, he simply resigned to let Keith deal with it for him.

Once he was clean, Keith balled up the napkin and tucked it away to throw out later. “That’s two symptoms today,” he muttered.

James nodded feebly. “Yeah.” He slid his hand over to rest on Keith’s. “Do you… Do you think it’ll make it?”

“What do you mean?” Keith asked, flipping his hand over to give him a small squeeze.

“The baby,” James clarified. “Do you think I’ll live long enough to… you know? It’s already been like eight months since we left our apartment, and about eight more months before the baby is expected to come –”

“You’ll be fine,” Keith said firmly. It was meant to convince James that there was no reason to worry, but it seemed like it was more to convince himself. “Both of you.”

With a sigh, James closed his eyes, clinging onto that shred of hope. “Of course.”

* * *

That night, both of them found it difficult to sleep.

They had driven non-stop until they reached a more forested area, parking their car a little ways into the trees before delving deeper to set up camp. It was something they were both used to by now – after months of traveling across the country, camping out in random areas, they fell into a comfortable routine of James setting up their campsite while Keith prepared a fire and meal.

In their rush to escape the watchful eyes of the diner, they had left their food on the table, but it didn’t take long for Keith to find something to cook. They ate quickly and fell into the tent, tangled in each other’s arms as they readied themselves for a night of much-needed rest.

It didn’t turn out how they expected.

“James, you should sleep,” Keith said, mindlessly rubbing circles into his hips with his thumbs. It was past midnight by that point.

“You’re still awake, too.”

“…”

They laid in silence, Keith staring at the ceiling of the tent while James stared off at nothing. It was peaceful in a way, but neither of them could escape the feeling that _something_ was coming.

It was James that spoke first. “I’m scared.”

Keith swallowed, his saliva thick as it ran down his throat. “Me, too. But it’ll be okay.”

James buried his face into the crook of his neck, his nose pressing his collarbone and his breath hot on his skin. With his hands, he played with the ends of Keith’s hair, twisting the strands between his fingers. “Your hair is getting really long.”

“Not surprising. I haven’t cut it since we left.” He picked up a piece and pulled it taut, noticing how the ends reached his chest. After a moment of pause, he spoke again. “Speaking of which, I need a haircut.”

James pulled gently on the chunks of hair. “Don’t,” he breathed. “It looks good on you.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.” He gave another tug. “It’s sexy.”

Keith huffed. “… Really?”

“Well, not when you keep asking,” James said with a laugh. He took a handful of hair and wrapped it around his hand to give him a secure grip, then used it to pull him in for a kiss.

When their lips separated, Keith smiled, pink staining his pale cheeks. “I thought you liked my mullet.”

“I did, but I like this, too.”

James had settled on top of him, his legs straddling his hips and his face mere millimeters from his own. Keith traced a finger along the edge of James’ jaw, taking his chin and tilting it up just enough to join their lips together once again.

“What happened to going to sleep?” James asked, grinning to himself while Keith pressed tender kisses down his jawline.

There was no warning before Keith suddenly flipped them over, humming with delight when he heard James’ yelp of shock. “Changed my mind.”

* * *

It must have been around five in the morning when James woke up, queasy and on the verge of retching right inside the tent. He left in a hurry to run to the stream, promising to come right back after he properly washed up.

Keith sleepily brushed him off, curling up in the blankets to replace the lost warmth of James’ body. He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep, ignoring James’ frantic movements to grab his clothes before he ended up spewing on his tired husband.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed between when James ran off and when he heard loud crunch from outside the tent, but Keith forced himself to unwrap himself from the comfort of the blankets and get dressed to help prepare breakfast. He put on his underwear and pants first, grabbing his shirt and jacket as he unzipped the tent to –

His eyes were met with the inner barrel of a gun, pointed straight at his face.

“Don’t move,” said the man in front of him.

Keith drew in a breath and shifted his gaze up to meet the face of this mysterious intruder. The man wore an aviator’s cap, a pair of goggles strapped to the top and his light hair falling out from underneath. His eyelids were heavy and his irises dark, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“What do you want?” Keith asked, forcing down his own fears as his mind suddenly went to think of James.

The man scoffed. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Of course, he knew, but Keith wasn’t about to give this man that satisfaction. He held a cold, hard stare as the man spoke.

“ _Where is she?_ ”

* * *

Finding the riverbank was more difficult than James had thought. Usually, it was fairly easy, especially after spending the past eight months practicing. Unfortunately, he failed to locate it in time before throwing up somewhere in the trees and trekking onward in his quest to get some water.

If he didn’t need a bath before, he _definitely_ needed one now.

The moment he finally reached the river was like stumbling across an oasis in the desert. He wasted no time in stripping off his clothes and jumping into the water, scrubbing every inch of himself clean with a sigh of relief. The cold of the water was shocking in the best of ways – it was rejuvenating, cleansing, and he felt like he had washed away ten years’ worth of stress.

But all that shattered when he suddenly heard someone yelling his name.

“ _Jamie!_ ”

It was distant, and if he were less attentive he would have never even heard it. He blocked out the noise of the river to focus on the sound.

“ _Don’t come back!_ ”

He gasped.

A series of guesses as to what happened flooded his brain, and only one thing was certain: that he had to leave, and fast.

But he couldn’t.

* * *

“He’s not coming back,” Keith said with a glower, his fingers curling in the dirt. His wrists were bound behind him, his ankles tied together as well, and thick ropes kept his torso locked against the trunk of a tree.

His captor – Rolo, that’s how he introduced himself – busied himself with starting the fire, chuckling. “Oh, she’ll be back,” he said. “And you can stop with the little act now. Her cover is already blown.”

“ _He_ ,” Keith corrected, anger bubbling inside of him. “And there’s no cover.”

Rolo waved him off. “Sure, whatever.”

Keith pulled his knees to his chest, tapping his feet anxiously. James should’ve heard him. He should’ve listened to him. He should’ve left.

But Keith had a feeling that his stubborn husband _didn’t_. He wouldn’t just leave him behind. In a reversed scenario, Keith wouldn’t have either.

“Why are you doing this?” Keith asked.

Rolo shrugged, poking at the fire with a long stick. “Look, it’s nothing personal. After the whole comet fiasco, you’ve gotta do whatever it takes to survive and get by, and that’s what I’m doing.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to kidnap people.”

A pause. “Two million dollars.”

Keith raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Is that supposed to make sense to me?”

“The Embryo Project is rewarding two million dollars for every woman they get,” Rolo said. “With that kind of money, I’d be set for life.”

“At the expense of someone else’s?” Keith snapped. “He’s not yours to turn in.”

“She’s not yours to keep to yourself.”

In that moment, Keith had never wanted to punch someone more. He saw red, hotter than the campfire, hotter than the sun –

A head of brown hair peeked out from behind a tree.

His eyes went wide as he saw James looking at him with fearful eyes. He looked between Keith and Rolo, who thankfully didn’t seem to notice the presence of a third person. James turned his attention back to Keith, slowly mouthing his words.

‘ _What happened?_ ’

Keith waited until Rolo had turned away to mouth a response.

‘ _Go away._ ’

James frowned. ‘ _No_.’

‘ _Run!_ ’

He shook his head. ‘ _I’m not leaving you_.’

Keith wanted to scream. As much as he loved his husband, he couldn’t deny how annoyingly loyal he could be.

“Did I shock you into silence or something?”

He jolted, eyes returning to meet Rolo’s cocky grin and his boiling rage returned ten-fold.

“Should’ve guessed that it’d be a surprise to you,” Rolo continued, oblivious to James watching from afar. “You’re being selfish, keeping her all to yourself like that. There’s only a small timeframe before infection when the eggs can be collected, and here you are, using her as your little fuck toy. Your personal desires above the fate of humanity? That’s fucking low.”

“Maybe you’re right. I don’t give a shit about what happens to humanity,” Keith said. “But everything I do is for him. I don’t give a shit about what happens to _me_ , as long as he’s safe.” He looked towards the trees, locking his gaze with James’. “And if he cares about me as much as I care about him,” he started, his eyes pleading and begging for him to simply _listen_ , “then he’ll run _far away from here_.”

That was all it took before James bolted from the trees, sending one final look of sorrow towards Keith and a quickly mouthing an ‘ _I love you_ ’ to match.

If only he had been quieter.

The sound of a branch snapping – a tiny misstep that must have been taken in the panic – and Rolo’s attention was on James like a hawk.

“There she is,” he said with a smile, grabbing a knife and some rope before chasing after him.

Keith struggling against his bindings, kicking and pulling and _screaming_ as he tried to break free. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He let his head hit the tree, hot tears running down his face as he sent a message that he hoped James could hear. “James, please be okay…”

* * *

_Run_.

James sprinted through the trees, in a zig-zag pattern, hoping to shake Rolo off his trail.

_Faster._

Rolo is gaining on him. He can hear his footsteps getting louder, he’s yelling at him to stop, to give up – but he can’t. Not now. Not ever.

 _Don’t trip_.

He jumped down from a hill, his boots sliding over the leaves that littered the ground and nearly causing him to faceplant on the dirt.

 _Do it for Keith_.

A small crevice. It’s in the ground, it’s fairly low, and it’s barely noticeable, covered mostly by leaves and foliage. The opening is big enough for a small person – big enough for him to slip through.

He doesn’t have a moment to hesitate. James crouches down and slips between the rock and under the stone, fabric of his jacket being slightly torn. He holds his breath as he lies as still as possible, a single stream of sunlight hitting his face.

Rolo’s footsteps stop near him, right above where the crevice is located. The crunch of the leaves is magnified by a hundred times.

“You can’t hide forever!” he yells, and for a moment, James thinks that he’s been caught, but Rolo begins walking away and pacing around the area.

James clenches his teeth and fists, his entire body tense.

He hears a scoff. “Fine, hide. I’ll find you, eventually.”

His footsteps begin to recede, growing quieter and quieter, and James feels relief wash over him as he realizes that he’s in the clear –

A whimper falls from his lips involuntarily, his limbs twitching as he loses control of what he’s doing.

_Fuck. Not now._

The footsteps pause, as if he’s looking back over his shoulder, like he’s found something, found _James_ –

But then, they continue to leave, until they can’t be heard at all.

* * *

“It can’t just be money,” Keith said, rolling his head to crack his neck. “That can’t be the only reason.”

“It is,” Rolo said, munching on a bird that he caught and cooked over the campfire. “Call me evil, greedy, a bad person – I don’t care.”

“Didn’t you have someone?” Keith asked. He squirmed, the rope becoming increasingly less comfortable – not that it ever was. “Someone that you would give anything to protect? You have to know what it’s like.”

He fell silent. His hand lowered until his food nearly touched the ground, and Keith recognized the soft, loving expression he wore.

It was the exact same expression he had when he thought of James.

“Nyma,” Rolo said, and the name held a certain fragility that seemed out of place for a man who had tied him up and tried to kidnap his husband. “Her name was Nyma.”

He looked into the fire longingly, as if reminiscing about a happier time. The flames flickered and twirled, like two lovers caught in a passionate dance.

“We quarantined our basement,” he began, and Keith listened intently. “She stayed there twenty-four-seven. We washed everything, ate canned food – it was torture, but we thought it was a small price to pay for her survival. She didn’t last the first year.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith said, “but you don’t have to do this.”

Rolo ignored him. “How did you keep her alive so long?” he pondered instead. “It’s been over three years, and you’ve still got her. I thought I did everything I could to keep Nyma safe, but _damn_ – How?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Keith lowered his eyes to the ground. “You’re too late anyways.”

“I know that,” Rolo said with a sigh.

“No, I mean –” He laughed bitterly. “He’s already infected.”

“… What?”

“He’s _dying_ ,” Keith said firmly. “Has been for about eight months. Even if you catch him, it won’t do any good.”

Rolo tightened his grip around the skewer in his hands. “I’ll still get my money, at least.”

“Over my dead body.”

“If it comes to that, I’m not opposed.”

While Rolo continued to eat, Keith stared up at the sky. Night had fallen, the stars had come out, and James was probably long gone by now.

He closed his eyes with a sigh. His cheeks were still stained with trails of tears from earlier, and yet more begun to flow. They fell slowly, gradually, in streams rather than the flood that came before.

Reality set in. James was gone.

* * *

It was dark.

James blinked open his eyes and found himself laying on a bed of leaves, crumbling under his weight. He tried to sit up onto to find rock above him, only a small opening letting the moonlight stream in. He immediately began to wonder where he was and how he got there when it all hit him.

Rolo. Running. Hiding. Seizure.

_Keith!_

He shakily climbed out from the small hidey-hole, still a little weak. But he needed to save Keith, they needed to get out of there, they needed to make it to the cabin –

They had to survive.

* * *

Keith found himself alone when Rolo finally had to go get water. He had looted through his and James things first, but when he found that they didn’t have anything to drink, he tentatively made the decision to head to the river.

“Don’t try anything,” he warned.

“As if I could,” Keith sneered, spitting on the ground near his feet.

Rolo stepped closer as if about to kick him, then decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. “Disgusting,” he scoffed.

Keith closed his eyes, savoring the few minutes he had until Rolo came back and he had to deal with his stupid face, his stupid voice –

He only had a few seconds of peace before his husband stumbled into the clearing, jumping his confiscated pocket knife.

“James?” he said incredulously. “What – I thought you left! Why are you still here?”

“Nice to see you, too,” he teased, quickly cutting through the rope that kept him bound to the tree. “Are you okay?”

“Haven’t eaten all day, but otherwise, I’m pretty good,” Keith said. He sighed with relief as he felt the rope around him fall loosely to the ground and rolled his shoulders with a satisfying crack of his joints.

James shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Keith. I would’ve come sooner, but –”

“Don’t apologize,” Keith said, with a laugh. “I’m just – I’m glad you’re here now.”

“I’m glad I’m here with you,” James said, a grateful smile on his face. “But this kind of stress _can’t_ be good for the baby.” He took Keith’s hands and began sawing away at the rope around his wrists. 

Keith smiled back, the corners of his lips stretching nearly to his ears and his heart pounding in his chest. James continued cutting the rope – it was slow work with such a small knife, but it seemed to be going well – and he nuzzled into Keith’s neck while he did so. Keith rested his head against James, his eyes keeping watch for when Rolo –

He nudged James with his shoulder, a panicked warning falling out. “James, behind!” he yelled, just a moment too late, and he watched in horror as Rolo grabbed him from behind, yanking back his arms and twisting them against his back.

James yelled in pain, dropping the pocketknife on the ground and falling backwards into Rolo’s chest. He thrashed back and forth, kicking his legs to try and escape, but Rolo kept a strong hold on him.

“Finally got you,” Rolo hissed, pushing James facedown onto the unforgiving forest floor as he began to secure the rope around his wrists. He sat atop him, using his own weight to hold James down.

“Let me go!” James screamed, trying desperately to get onto his knees, to protect himself, to protect Keith, to protect their _baby_ –

Keith managed to grab his pocketknife, holding the blade between his shoes and rubbing the rope against its edge. He pulled with every ounce of his strength, and after cutting halfway through the rope, it snapped, and his hands were free. Without a moment of respite, he went to work cutting away the bindings of his ankles, and soon, he was completely mobile.

He ran at Rolo with a growl, but Rolo saw him from the corner of his eye and twisted around to block his knife with one of his own.

Rolo slashed at him, slicing his right cheek and throwing him off guard. He stepped towards him, but Keith sent a flying kick to his right side, causing him to tumble to the ground. Keith reeled back his fist and punched, ignoring the blood running down his face and soaking into his clothes as adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he grinned viciously when he heard the sickening crack of Rolo’s jaw as he made contact.

Quickly, he flipped the pocketknife in his hand and sent it plunging into Rolo’s upper arm, digging it into his flesh until the blade was completely hidden, the hilt pushing against his muscle. It should immobilize him enough to steal his knife and end it all.

But he bit his tongue when Rolo shoved back, elbowing him in the gut with his bad arm. He used the opportunity to pounce on top of him, his size giving him an advantage in the fight, and he pinned him down against his back as he sent his knife towards his neck –

Keith’s hands shot up to block the knife, his left hand holding back Rolo’s wrist and the other pushing against the blade itself. His teeth gritted together painfully, he could feel the knife slicing into his hand, his right cheek was burning – But he couldn’t give up.

Rolo pressed harder, and Keith bit back a cry as he felt his hand being cut deeper and deeper, and he feared that it might go all the way through –

His ears rung. The pressure on his hands alleviated. Rolo spasmed, then fell limply to the side. Keith looked down at his body, his eyes wide.

There was a gunshot wound to his spine.

“Keith,” James breathed, holding a gun with his wrists still tied. They stared at each other in silence, because they were both alive, they were okay, they had survived.

“James!” Keith said, running to help him untie the rope. He used his uninjured hand to caress his face with a relieved smile. “Oh my god, Jamie, you’re okay.”

“Me?” James gasped. “What about you? Keith you’re bleeding!”

“It’s nothing, I’ve dealt with worse.”

As soon as the rope was gone, James raised a hand to touch Keith’s cheek, and he flinched at the contact. Now that the fight was done, he slowly came down from his high, and the numbness that he felt before began wearing off to reveal the pain he had been suppressing.

James winced. “Keith, I can already tell it’s gonna scar.”

“It’ll make me look more badass,” he said with a shrug.

“As if _you_ of all people need to look _more_ badass,” James teased, shaking his head. “Choppy hair, leather jacket, fingerless gloves – You got a checklist or something?”

Keith laughed, wiping the corner of his eyes. Tears were still running down his face – this time with gratitude that they had made it out alive – and he felt a sting as the saltiness met his fresh wounds. “It hurts,” he said softly, holding out his bleeding palm.

James smiled and left a quick kiss on his good cheek, delicately holding his hand. “Come on, Nurse Jamie will patch you up.”

* * *

Tending to Keith’s wounds was oddly therapeutic. James had missed doing this – being able to help people by cleaning and bandaging their injuries, helping to make them feel better. He was quick to clean and disinfect the cuts, and although it stung like hell, Keith had to admit that it felt immensely better once James had finished wrapping them up.

After all, there was a reason that he was hired at the best hospital in the state.

When all was said and done, they both came to the agreement that they couldn’t stay there another night. Not after what had happened, and certainly not now that there was a dead body at the camp. James couldn’t even look at Rolo anymore – the sight made him want to faint. Knowing that he had killed someone, even if it was in self-defense, after he had taken a pledge to take care of people.

It was ironic in a sense that made him sick.

They packed up and left that night. They didn’t stop driving until they hit the city.

* * *

James felt like he was in a dream. After spending so long on the road and between hotels, the thought of living in an actual _house_ was implausible to him. And yet, here they were.

“This is it?” he asked, stepping onto the wooden porch and feeling the wood under his fingertips. The cabin was small, but it looked cozy, like the perfect place to start a family. The craftsmanship was flawless, if a bit on the modest side, but it was beautiful in all its simplicity.

Keith nodded, a melancholic smile on his lips. “Yeah,” he said softly, “this was my dad’s place. He built it from the ground up.”

Seeing Keith’s reaction to his childhood home was incredibly heartwarming. To most people, Keith was cold and withdrawn, a slight air of arrogance surrounding him.

But to James, Keith was anything but that. He was warm, welcoming, and overflowing with love to give, and all he wanted in return was to _receive_ love. Here, that side of him showed through even more, leaving him vulnerable, and James was fortunate to be able to see it.

He strolled across the wood to wrap his arms around Keith’s waist, pressing against his back and resting his chin on his shoulder. Slowly, he nuzzled his cheek against Keith’s, feeling the dip in his skin from where his wound had scarred over.

“It’s lovely,” he whispered, leaving a kiss on Keith’s temple.

A deep chuckle resonated through him. “It is,” Keith said, “and now it’s ours.”

* * *

The first few nights were spent cleaning the cabin and sorting through the old boxes that were stored there. Keith’s father had saved all his baby things – that was a blessing – and together, they prepared a humble nursery for their little one.

There wasn’t much, but it had the essentials: a crib, clothes, a collection of unused diapers in various sizes (as well as some reusable cloth ones), old baby bottles, pacifiers – it was all they could have hoped for.

James sorted through everything blissfully, and he felt his excitement grow with every new item they found. He had always wanted to be a father someday – better than his own father, that was for sure – but he never imagined it actually happening.

He was nervous. He was terrified. He was anxious.

But above all of it, he was so undoubtedly _happy_.

Keith couldn’t help but feel at ease every time James came across a new article of clothing, gushing over how cute he must have looked wearing it and enthusiastically thinking about how their own child might look in it.

His favorite by far was a lion onesie he had pulled from one of the last few boxes they found. It was black with a mane and ears on the hood, tiny pawprints on the feet and a tail sewed onto the back. James had hugged it close to his chest, and when Keith showed him a picture of him wearing it, he nearly exploded from the overflow of cuteness.

It was almost enough to make them forget the possibility that continued to haunt them both: that James might not make it, and the baby might not either.

* * *

The two of them fell easily into a routine. It was calming and comforting, in a way, and it gave their lives a sense of regularity that they had been lacking as of late.

Keith was mainly in charge of hunting for food and collecting firewood. He made frequent trips to the store to buy supplies and stock up, but for the most part, he enjoyed just spending time in the cabin with James.

James often stayed at the home cooking and cleaning, occasionally heading out to the city to go grocery shopping or to have a fun, leisurely rendezvous with Keith. He rarely went out – his symptoms seemed to have reached a standstill, but they were still happening often enough to pose issue – but he was glad to have some freedom in what he did.

The times he spent alone while Keith was gone were the worst. They were reminiscent of the darkest moments of his life: being confined to a single apartment, not being able to touch anything or talk to anyone. It was like a prison, his own personal hell.

When Keith went out for long periods of time, he found himself growing antsy, and it was then that his symptoms seemed to hit him the most often. He would find himself in a panicked fit of coughs, unable to do anything but hold a tissue to his lips to wipe away the blood as he prayed for Keith to come back soon. Sometimes, he would suffer a seizure, passing out until he eventually found himself tucked in bed, Keith hovering over him with a worried expression. Seldom would he be confined to his bed, staving off a migraine with an attempt to fall asleep, but it was still a reoccurring problem.

Despite all his doubts and fears, Keith always came back.

* * *

James hummed with content as he crossed off another day on the calendar.

Meanwhile, Keith toweled dry his hair from the bed, dressed in a plain black t-shirt and sweats. “Are you still keeping track of that?”

“Of course,” James said, as if it were the only obvious answer. “Let’s see – if my math is right, and we conceived sometime in mid-March, then that means…” He tapped the pen on his chin a few times in thought before spinning around with a victorious grin. “I’m four months!”

“How do you feel?” Keith asked, his head tilting in curiosity in that way that James always found so undeniably _adorable_.

“Pretty good,” he said. “I don’t feel nauseous all the time anymore.”

“Oh, thank god,” Keith said, pretending to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow. “Now, I don’t have to worry about you throwing up on me.”

“That was _one time_!”

“Yeah, and it was _gross_.”

James playfully hit him on the face with his palm. “You’re such an asshole.”

Keith rubbed his forehead with a smile, whipping James with his towel. “But I’m yours,” he said gleefully.

* * *

“I can’t believe you made us drive out to the convenience store at two a.m.” Keith complained with a yawn. The car keys jingled from his fingers.

James hid meekly behind the pyramid of ice cream pints he was holding. “I had a craving.”

“At two in the morning?”

A small shrug.

“ _Jamie_ ,” Keith whined. “I’m tired. And you should be getting sleep, too.”

“But ice cream.”

“But _sleep_.”

James pursed his lips. “Fine,” he said, putting back a few of the containers, “then you’re not getting any.”

Keith’s eyes shot open, and he was suddenly awake. “Hey, wait! I take it back!”

* * *

When he felt a smack to his face, Keith found himself pulled out from his precious slumber.

“What the fuck, Jamie?” he muttered, lowering his husband’s hand. He squirmed under the blankets, wrapping his arms around James’ body and pulling him into an embrace. His hand hovered over James’ abdomen, the gentle sloping of his stomach much more prominent.

“Sorry,” James whispered. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I just can’t get comfortable.” He shifted in Keith’s arms a few times, testing different positions before switching to another, only to find it just as unpleasant as the last. “I usually sleep on my stomach,” he pouted.

Keith moved closer until his chest was pressed against James’ back, and he rubbed soothing circles over his belly. “How’s this?”

“… It’s good.”

* * *

Keith licked his lips, his hand running down to feel the bare skin of James’ waist, his hip, his thigh –

“Is this safe?” he asked. “This won’t hurt the baby or anything, right?”

“No, the baby will be fine,” James sighed, wrapping his legs around Keith’s hips and trying to pull him down on top of him.

“Are you sure?”

James whimpered, grabbing a handful of Keith’s hair and yanking him closer. “ _Yes_ , Keith I’m sure. I used to be a nurse, remember?”

“I know, but –”

“ _Keith_ ,” James moaned, and Keith took in a sharp breath at the sound of his voice. “Please, just fuck me already.”

That was all he needed. “ _Okay_ ,” he whispered, and he leaned down to join their lips in a heated kiss before slamming into his wanton husband.

* * *

“Keith!” James yelled, hurriedly running down the porch steps and towards him. “Keith, come here!”

At the sound of James’ voice, Keith dropped the wood he was carrying and sprinted forward to meet him, his brows knit with concern. “James, is everything alright? Are you hurt or sick or –”

James snatched his hands, rucking up his sweater and sliding Keith’s palms against the swell of his belly. “Do you feel it?”

Keith curled his fingers ever so slightly, running his hands over the smooth skin. “What are you –”

He froze. A small movement fluttered under his fingertips.

“It kicked,” he said quietly. “The baby – It kicked.”

“I know,” James said with a keen nod.

“It _kicked_ ,” he repeated, smiling widely. Everything suddenly felt so _real_. Keith moved his hands to grip James’ waist, lifting him up in a celebratory hug as James hooked his arms around his neck, laughing joyously. “Our baby kicked!”

“I know, Keith,” James said again, nudging his nose against his before meeting their lips for a tender kiss. “I know.”

* * *

“It’s hot,” James said, his cheeks flushed. He sat on the couch in an oversized t-shirt and underwear, flipping through the pages of a book.

Keith cocked an eyebrow at him. “It’s like sixty degrees in here.”

James’ eyes widened in surprise and he wiped away a bit of sweat from his forehead. “Really?” he gasped. “It feels like ninety.”

“… Should I be concerned?” He shouldn’t have asked – Of _course_ he would be concerned, regardless of whether or not he had the grounds to be.

“No,” James said, biting his lower lip and turning the page. “I think it’s just a hot flash.”

“Oh.” Keith scratched at his cheek. “Is it serious?”

“It’s just what it sounds like. I’ll be fine in a bit. I’m just a little hot for now.”

Keith clicked his tongue. “I think you’re hot all the time.”

A throw pillow hit the back of his head, and he smirked to himself.

* * *

“Happy fourth anniversary, Jamie.”

“Happy anniversary, Keith.”

They clinked their glasses together – the orange juice inside was glowing under the candlelight – and brought them to their lips for a drink. They were seated on the back porch, a table set up with fancy dinnerware and a homecooked meal that James and Keith had both spent the day preparing.

It was familiar. It was like their first anniversary dinner, the night that everything changed. The night that the world began to crumble.

But they were together.

* * *

He found him standing in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection with a conflicted look on his face.

“Jamie?” Keith called, approaching cautiously from behind. He placed a hand on the small of his back. “Is everything alright?”

There was a quiet sniffle. “I – I’m not sure.” He ran a hand over his stomach, ghosting over the soft material of his sweater.

Keith furrowed his eyebrows. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he insisted, his voice gentle and calming.

“I just –” James closed his eyes. “I feel like a stranger. Like the person in the mirror – That isn’t me.”

“What do you mean?” Keith implored, wrapping an arm around his waist and cradling his stomach. He looked into the mirror, his eyes catching onto the reflection of James’ face.

James frowned, his eyebrows tilting up, and he looked so… _sad_. “It’s like I’m going backwards. I spent the first sixteen years of my life trying to find myself and assert who I was, and _this_ –” He rested a hand on Keith’s arm. “– this feels like I’m undoing all of it.”

“This doesn’t make you any less of a man,” Keith whispered.

“I know it doesn’t,” James said. “That’s not the issue. I’m happy – really, I am – I’m _so happy_ that I get to experience this, but…”

A kiss was pressed to his temple. “It’s okay, Jamie.”

“Ever since the comet, I’ve seen myself changing.” He met Keith’s gaze in the mirror. “You’ve noticed, too, haven’t you?”

He did. He never said anything, he didn’t feel the need to, but he saw.

James’ face seemed softer somehow, his facial hair wispier and thinner. The fat on his body was rearranged, leaving his waist trim but his hips slightly wider than usual. His voice was the same, but something about it sounded more forced, like it took more of an effort to get it that way.

And then the baby happened. Something that was considered so feminine, something only a woman could have –

It made James want to cry. He was looking at a reflection that didn’t belong to him.

Keith noticed something was amiss around July. They had tumbled into bed together, tearing off each other’s clothes in an aroused frenzy when James had grabbed his hand.

“Don’t,” he had pleaded, stopping Keith from lifting the edge of his thick sweater. The heat must have been unbearable, but he would rather suffer from it than having to face Keith with the body that he was still unsure was truly even his.

“Jamie…”

“Please.” There were tears in his eyes, a tempest of fear and insecurity swirling in that sea of gray-blue. “ _Please, Keith, don’t_.”

They left the sweater on.

Keith sighed, his hot breath tickling James’ ear. “I still love you,” Keith reassured. “I always will. Nothing will ever change that.”

He let out a small laugh, but it was humorless. Pained, even. “I know. I’m just not sure I love myself.”

* * *

“Do you know what day it is?” Keith asked from the kitchen counter.

James nodded solemnly, pacing around the kitchen as he grabbed the ingredients to make dinner. “Yeah,” he spoke, and his voice was weak.

Keith bit his lip. “Eight months.”

“Yeah.”

It was like watching a movie he had seen before, replaying right before his eyes and in his husband. James looked like a ghost, silently inhabiting the cabin with a somber air about him.

The baby was finally taking a toll on him. His stomach was bulging as the baby’s due date grew nearer, and it was nearly impossible to hide. James hadn’t been out in public for weeks – he would drive with Keith to town, since his mental health wasn’t strong enough to stay at the house alone for more than a couple hours, but he would never leave the confines of the car – and he longed for the short-lived freedom he had.

He was given a taste and relapsed into the comfort of being able to go where he pleased, only to have it stolen from him again.

“How are we going to deliver it?” Keith asked nervously. The question had been eating away at him since they first found out, but he didn’t have the strength to voice his concern before. Now that it was so close to happening, he couldn’t delay it any longer. “We can’t go to a hospital.”

“I’m a nurse, remember?” James said. “Or, I _was_ one. I didn’t deal with delivering babies, but I know enough.”

“But you’re also going to be the one to actually _deliver_ the baby.”

“I’ll tell you what to do.” James cut his knife through an onion, carefully dicing it while blinking away the tears that sprung to his eyes.

Keith sighed. “Okay, Jamie.”

* * *

It may have been a false alarm, but it left both of them shaken.

They had been eating dinner on the couch together, watching old home videos that Keith’s father had saved and left on the shelves. James was smiling and laughing – the happiest that Keith had seen him in what felt like ages – when he suddenly dropped his fork and groaned in pain.

At first, Keith thought it was another seizure. But that didn’t make sense – James wouldn’t have reacted if it was.

“Jamie?” he said, setting down his plate and holding him close.

“Hurts,” James wheezed. He was panting, his face contorted in pain, and he was clutching his stomach with his fists balled in the fabric. “It hurts.”

Keith immediately fell to his knees, ready to act in case James needed it, but he shook his head.

“They’re just contractions,” James said weakly. “It’s not – not coming yet. My water didn’t break.”

Nevertheless, Keith remained on the floor at James’ feet, massaging his hips as they waited for the pain to pass. When it did, James sighed with relief, leaning forward to hug Keith and press kisses to his hair.

“Thank you for staying,” he muttered.

Keith smiled, rubbing circles into his back. “Always.”

* * *

“Are you excited?” Keith asked one night. “It should be coming any day, now.”

James laughed breathlessly. “Absolutely. I’m ready to have my body back and a baby in my arms. I’m fucking tired of my back hurting all the time and having to pee every two hours.”

“What are you most looking forward to?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. He twiddled his thumbs together in thought, a soft smile playing on his lips as he allowed himself to dream of the future. “Everything, really. I’ve always wanted to be a father. I just love kids, and I can’t wait to have one of my own.”

“I know you do. You always brought up how you wanted a baby when we went to the park and saw the kids at the playground,” Keith teased. “You had crazy baby fever.”

“Still do.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “I didn’t think that we’d be having one though. I always thought we’d adopt – I like the idea of helping a child in need of a loving home, but I’m really glad that we’re having a biological one.”

Keith hummed with delight. “Me, too.” He placed his hand on James’ stomach, feeling as the baby turned and kicked. “I think I’m most excited to see what they look like.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I want to see whose eyes they have, whose nose, lips – It’s baffling to think about. A baby that looks like both of us.” He nuzzled closer to James until his nose brushed his cheek, and they both laughed.

“I guess it is pretty amazing.” James twisted Keith’s hair between his fingers, admiring how the dark strands reflected the moonlight like the gold band on his finger. “This is really happening,” he said, his voice dripping in awe and fascination. We’re having a baby.”

“We are,” Keith said. “We really are.”

* * *

The sight in the kitchen was what tipped him off.

Keith had come back after a quick hunt in the woods, carrying a rabbit over his shoulder as he returned to their cozy little cabin. When he left, James had just begun to prepare a delicious stew for the meat – one of Keith’s favorites. He busied himself chopping vegetables and cooking rice, singing to pass the time.

But by the time Keith returned, he found the kitchen empty. A pot of boiling water and rice was left unattended on the stove which was still turned on, and a knife lied abandoned on the hardwood floor, a half-cut tomato at the counter.

“Jamie?” Keith yelled, looking around frantically. “Jamie!”

He stopped, noticing a trail of liquid on the floor, leading from the kitchen and down the hall. It should have been more obvious, but in his state of panic, the answer slipped from his mind until he heard a scream.

“ _Keith!_ ”

_James!_

His reaction was immediate. He ran towards James’ pained voice, racing through the doorway of the bathroom and nearly tripping over the bath rug.

The bathtub was filled halfway. James sat inside wearing only a t-shirt, his legs spread and hooked over the edges of the tub. His hands gripped the porcelain so tight that Keith feared it might crack.

But, worst of all, he was in immense pain, and he quite clearly looked the part.

“Keith,” he gasped, his eyes squeezed shut as he muffled a cry. “Please.”

He was already rolling up the legs of his pants, throwing off his shoes and climbing into the tub to join him. He massaged the inside of his thighs with his thumbs, whispering soft assurances to him.

“It’s okay, Jamie,” he said. “I’m here.”

* * *

It was the most excruciating eight hours of their lives.

James was a disaster. He was wailing from the pain, thrashing his head back and forth as he screamed.

“ _No! No, it hurts!_ ”

“ _I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do it!_ ”

“ _Make it stop!_ ”

For Keith, the pain was second-handed. Physically, he was fine, but _emotionally_ –

He had never seen James so _hurt_ before. It took all his strength to listen to James’ angry instructions on what to do between his pained cries and watch him as his face twisted into one of pure agony.

Physically, he was fine, but it didn’t feel like it. He felt like there was a knife in his heart.

* * *

The moment it was done was like the light at the end of the tunnel.

With a final push, Keith found himself with a baby in his arms, wailing loud enough to contest with James. It was a girl – she was most _beautiful_ thing Keith had ever seen, and he always thought his husband was impossible to beat – and her scarce brown hair was matted to her tiny head. Her face was red as she cried, and Keith found himself washing it with a soft cloth, gently shushing her as he ran the fabric over her cheeks.

“Let – Let me see,” James panted, completely exhausted. He barely looked conscious, his eyes were mere slits and he had slumped against the walls of the tub.

“It’s a girl,” Keith said, nestling himself between James’ legs and coming close enough that their heads touched. “Jamie, it’s a girl.”

That was enough to make him crack open his eyes just a bit more. “I want to hold her.”

Keith transferred the bawling baby from his arms to James’, smiling as he saw how his eyes lit up at finally being able to touch her.

“ _She’s perfect_ ,” James sobbed, an onslaught of joyous tears rolling down his cheeks.

He couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, and Keith relented as he let his own dam break. “I know,” he said, a blubbering mess. “She’s really ours.”

They sat in silence – aside from their sobs, that is – as James rocked the baby back and forth in his arms, pressing a kiss to her head as she drifted to sleep. Keith held onto his arm, using his other hand to delicately cradle her head.

“What should we name her?” Keith suddenly remembered. “It completely slipped my mind until now –”

“Bella,” James said. “It means ‘beautiful’.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you been thinking about this?”

James lowered his face, his lips pulled into a sheepish grin as a blush rose to his cheeks. “Uh, yeah… I’ve been thinking about baby names for years, and I really liked it… We don’t have to name her Bella if you don’t want to, though. We can wait and think of one together –”

“Bella,” Keith repeated. “I like it.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Keith said, tilted up his chin so that they were face-to-face. “We’ll name her Bella.”

James brought a weak hand to his eyes to wipe a few stray tears. “I love you, Keith.”

“I love you, Jamie,” Keith whispered, and their lips met.

It was sweet and tender, and the taste of James lingered on his tongue. He tangled his hands in his brown hair – mindful of the baby between them – and he drowned himself in James’ scent, his love, his everything. It was the greatest moment of his life.

And it all ended too soon.

James whimpered, his head jerking to the side and causing his teeth to knock against Keith’s. He pulled back, quickly taking Bella from James’ arms as he began to tremble and lose his grip on her.

“Jamie,” Keith whispered. “Jamie, not now, _please_.”

He waited anxiously, a pit of fear in his stomach as he sat in the chilly water. After what felt like hours, but was likely only a few minutes, James stopped, limply leaning against the tub with his eyes glossed over, staring off into the water.

Keith took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his arms shaking as he entertained the idea of James being –

No. It was the same as always. He had only passed out. He was fine.

With careful steps, Keith climbed out of the tub, padding across the tiles and hardwood to where they had set up a nursery. He dressed Bella into the first set of clothes he could find, securing a clean diaper around her and bundling her in a onesie.

Then, he went back to James. It was easy enough to lift him, drying him off with a clean towel before carrying him to their shared bedroom. He had lots of practice – he did the same each time James suffered from a seizure in the past – but he couldn’t help but feel like James was heavier than normal.

He tucked him into the bed and placed a kiss on his forehead, closing the bedroom door and going to sleep on the couch.

Keith couldn’t bring himself to stay.

* * *

When morning came, he entered the room and pressed an ear to James’ chest.

Silence. Cold, empty, lonely silence.

Keith crumpled to the floor in defeat.

* * *

Digging the hole was strangely numbing.

He grabbed the shovel and stabbed it into the ground, throwing the dirt to the side as he worked. It kept his hands busy and his mind occupied. Hours passed by in a blink, and he dreaded what he had to do next.

James’ body felt like a block of lead in his arms. Each step was like walking on nails. Each breath burned his lungs.

When he finally reached the hole he had dug, he lowered James onto the ground, brushing back his hair so that it perfectly framed his face, just like it usually did.

He was dressed in a light blue button-up and matching white pants, a pair of dark dress-shoes on his feet. Keith had placed a single white rose in his hands, folding them over the flower’s stem with great care. His eyes were closed, his long lashes reflecting the morning sunlight in flashes of gold.

James looked beautiful. Ethereal. Peaceful.

Keith couldn’t help the sob that escaped him, that he’d been holding back all day and night. He pounded a fist into the ground near James’ head, a flare of anger shooting through him when he noticed that he didn’t flinch.

“Wake up, James!” he screamed, grabbing his shirt collar harshly and scrunching the fabric between his fingers. “Wake the fuck up, you fucking asshole!”

Tears fell down James’ face, but they weren’t his own. Keith howled, his throat was closing up, and all he wanted was for this sick game to end.

He fell forward, his face against the dirt, his cheek being tickled by James’ soft locks. “Please,” he begged. “ _Please_ , Jamie, _wake up_. You can’t leave me. _You can’t_. _Not now_.”

A soft kiss was pressed to his chapped lips. Keith stared, waiting, wanting – Any moment now, James would open his eyes and smile at him, waking up like a princess in the fairytales from their childhood.

But this wasn’t a fairytale. James wasn’t a princess under some cursed spell, and he wasn’t going to wake up.

It took way too long for Keith to work up the courage to bury him, throwing shovelfuls of dirt over his body until the hole was filled and the ground looked untouched. Once the deed was done, he took a piece of firewood and quickly carved into it with his knife, planting it into the ground in place of a headstone.

‘ _Jamie_ ’, written inside a heart.

Keith stared, his eyes refusing to let fresh tears fall. The well had run dry, he didn’t have the strength anymore.

A cry. It came from the house.

He sighed, kissing his fingertips and pressing them into the dirt.

 _I love you, Jamie. Always_.

With one final look – one full of happiness and sadness, anger and love, confusion and resignation, every other emotion that existed in the known universe and then some – he stood, dragging his heavy feet back inside the house to tend to their daughter.

It was only them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to issue a formal apology for this. I swear I love James I really do ;-; One day I'll write something where neither half of the pairing dies, but today isn't that day.
> 
> On a lighter note, there's still more to come! I'm especially excited to write Part 3, bc the format is quite different and it's been super fun to write so far! I've got some fluffier stuff in the works, too, so at least not everything is as angsty as this :)


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